


Take Me From The Dark

by brittaniansun



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Childhood Trauma, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Single Parents, bit of a slow burn, eddie is a therapist, mike is a social worker, nothing about it is graphic tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittaniansun/pseuds/brittaniansun
Summary: Richie became a single dad at a young age, having accidentally gotten his girlfriend pregnant. She ultimately decides to go through with the pregnancy, but at the last minute decided she didn't want the kid. Richie promised her he would take care of their son, no matter what; he keeps that promise.At 4 years old, though, David starts having these nightmares. He refuses to sleep alone or leave his dad's side, so Richie calls his best friend- and his son's pediatrician- Stan.“Listen, I’m gonna refer you to a therapist, okay?" he says, "He’s in-network and we were friends back in university, so I trust the guy. He’s a single dad, too. Maybe he can help you figure it out, I don’t know.”“Thanks, Stan, seriously. It means a lot to me.”He means that- what he doesn't mean is to fall in love with his son's therapist.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Audra Phillips, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	1. Act I: Why Does It Hurt So Much?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a passion project for me. I always love to see characters I love take care of kids. With the source material being what it is, I thought it would only be fitting to see them take care of kids with their own childhood trauma. This fic is the product of that.  
> I debated for a long time how to go about it, though. I was hesitant to write a fic with graphic child abuse, and I really couldn't bring myself to put David through too much. In the end I just decided to imply that David witnessed some really bad things while Gray was trying to groom him for abuse.  
> Unfortunately, a lot of this is actually fairly accurate to reality. I did a lot of research going into this. I wanted to make it as much of a tribute to those of us who have lived through trauma and abuse (I was more subject to the side effects of abusive parenting and fell into a toxic situation with my cousin) as I could. With that being said, please be careful and enjoy!

He wakes up to a soft sniffling sound that, not even 4 years ago, he wouldn’t have even heard had he been awake. He grumbles a little as he climbs out of bed, fumbling with his glasses and the lights along the way. Peering through the already opened door of his son’s bedroom, he sees that David is sitting up in bed and clutching his giant stuffed brown bear, the only remaining keepsake that he had of his mother.

“Hey, buddy, what’s wrong?” His voice is rough from sleep and the sound of it only causes David to cry harder, leaping out of bed with Big Bear still in his arms, leaping into Richie and wrapping himself tightly around him. The leap was expected but it still managed to catch him off guard as he swayed slightly, gently shushing the small child that continued to cry in his arms. He ran his large hands across David’s back- and god, he’s four and a half years old and so much bigger than he was when he first held him in his arms, but he’s still so small and this world is so cruel- bouncing on his feet to try and simulate the soothing rocking motion that had never failed to put David to sleep.

“It’s okay, baby boy, it’s okay,” he murmurs, listening attentively as his son finally begins to calm down, his crying slowing to intermittent sniffles. “Yeah, that’s it,” he soothes, walking back to put David into bed. As he leans down to do so, though, David squeezes his arms around his neck and starts to cry again, so Richie shoots up and holds him tighter against his chest and leans his head back to get a good look at his son’s face.

“Woah, hey buddy, what’s up?” he asks but David just shakes his head and buries his face into Richie’s neck, squeezing so hard that Richie isn’t sure he’s ever going to let go.

Not that he wants to, of course, but Stan is always telling him how important it is to let kids be independent. It’s weird, he knows, being best friends with your child’s primary care physician but, well. Richie didn’t exactly know what he was doing when all this started and Stan at least knew how to help him medically.

It didn’t hurt that he got free in-home check-ups.

He carries David back to his own bedroom and sets him up in the bed with him after much struggling and fighting on David’s part. Richie makes promises he knows he can’t keep, in the long run- “I’m not gonna leave you, I promise, I’ll always be here, nothing is gonna take me away from you, kiddo”- and David falls asleep, holding Big Bear in one arm and Richie’s pillow in the other. 

He sighs heavily, leaning back against the headboard, and forces himself to take several breaths. He wouldn’t be going back to sleep, that was for sure. He snuck a glance at the clock and saw bright red numbers glaring back at him, telling him it was really too early to be up but definitely too late to go back to bed. Sighing again, this time in defeat, he picks up his cell phone and calls Stanley, hoping he doesn’t wake Patty in the process.

* * *

“I just don’t know what to do, Stanley,” he says, pacing in the kitchen. It’s 7:30 now, and David is in the process of slowly eating his breakfast. Big Bear sits in the chair next to him, slumped over slightly, and Richie fixes it mindlessly when he walks by. David looks up at him, slightly confused, before looking back down at his cereal. Richie’s chest tightens and he ruffles his hair, pushing the small wire glasses back up his nose. David is always losing his glasses because he never bothers to keep them on properly; it reminds Richie of himself in a way that he tries not to think about too much because it just might make him melt right into the floor.

“I don’t know either, Rich,” Stan says, slightly exasperated by the early phone call. He was only slightly exasperated, of course, because two of his own children- the youngest two, Rachel and Sara- had begun wailing only minutes before he picked up the phone. “He probably just had a nightmare, Jacob and Aron get them all the time.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…” he bit his lip, not really sure how to explain it, “Something’s not right, Stan. David wouldn’t let go of me all night, when I tried to leave the room to go to the bathroom he woke up and started crying again, and he won’t tell me what’s wrong, he just cries anytime I bring it up.” He’s speaking lowly, keeping an eye on David to make sure he doesn’t burst into tears again. “There’s something more going on.”

Stan sighs, thinking for a moment. “I believe you,” he says, and Richie lets out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding, “Listen, I’m gonna refer you to a therapist, okay? He’s in-network and we were friends back in university, so I trust the guy. He’s a single dad, too. Maybe he can help you figure it out, I don’t know.”

“Thanks, Stan, seriously. It means a lot to me.”

“I know.”

* * *

In the end, he calls into work that day because the minute he began trying to get David dressed for daycare he starts freaking out, crying and thrashing his limbs. They spend the day doing puzzles and other interactive activities, and Richie teaches him how to make sandwiches and set the table for lunch. He’s grateful for the time he gets to spend with his son, but concern gnaws at his chest and grows every time David freaks out when Richie goes too far away.

He calls the therapist during David’s nap time and sets up an appointment for as soon as possible. Unfortunately, seeing as how Dr. Kaspbrak is the best pediatric psychiatrist in their area, the wait time is a couple of weeks. The women he spoke to suggested that- based on what he mentioned to her- he keep David close to him over that time period and make note of anything else. Frustrated and relieved in equal measures, he thanks her for everything and confirms the appointment for the Friday after next at 8 am. He’s never been big on waking up early but he’d do it for the rest of his life if it meant keeping his son safe and happy. 

After he hangs up the phone and adds the appointment to his calendar- because he’s the type that keeps a calendar now that he has a son and a job and all that other shit- then starts in on the dishes from lunch. He hasn’t had time to do chores during the day in a long time and he’s going to take advantage of every second of it.

He usually does it at night after David has gone to bed. For a couple of years after he was born he’d been struggling to keep up with regular domestic tasks on top of everything, and he’d broken down in front of Patty when David was 2 and the boys were just shy of turning 3, venting about how hard everything was and how he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep doing it all by himself, when she gave him some tips.

She was a substitute teacher part-time while Stan ran his pediatric clinic, so most of the raising the kids and domestic chores fell on her, at least during working hours. 

“I always do the chores after they go to bed,” she had told him, “It’s basically impossible to get it done when they’re awake and making more of a mess. If I’m home during the day with them I’ll do most of it during their nap time, but when Stan and I are both working one of us will put them to bed at night and the other will start in on the cleaning. After that, we have time to do whatever else needs to get done, like scheduling appointments or paying bills. It’s just an added bonus that it desensitized them to noise while they were sleeping.”

Ever since then, he’s kept David and himself on a semi-regular schedule of waking up around 7, going to daycare and work at 8, going home at 4:30, putting David to bed at 8, and getting all his tasks completed by 10. 

David’s always been a pretty easy kid if he’s being honest. He sleeps through the night, he takes his naps without a fuss, he likes fruit and veggies, he doesn’t like being dirty, he listens to his dad. This is the most he’s struggled with him since he was teething in his early toddler years; though, in all honesty, his potty training comes in at a pretty close second. 

He’s just finished loading the washing machine and turning it on when he hears David scream. He rushes out of the laundry room, through the kitchen, down the hall, and into his room- David still refuses to sleep in his own bed- to see David sitting up, clutching Big Bear, his mouth wide open in these horrifying screams that Richie knew he would never be able to forget. 

He sweeps David up into his arms, calming him down as best he can, and he wonders if there’s anything he could have done to stop whatever had caused this.

* * *

The next two weeks are absolute hell.

He fortunately works in the type of job that allows him the freedom to work from home on occasion. Unfortunately, however, he doesn’t actually get all that much work done. He’s taking care of David pretty much full-time now. With the way the poor kid has been sleeping lately, he’s only become irritable and resistant, constantly lashing out at Richie. There have been times when Richie would go to play with him and he would start panicking, kicking and hitting and screaming. 

Richie’s probably cried as much as David, at this point. 

Right now they’re in his bed, David curled up against him while he sits up against the headboard, laptop in his lap. He’d started out working, but a thought had been niggling at the back of his head for a few days and now he’s staring at google results, heart pounding in his chest.

The first things he’d looked up were childhood anxiety and childhood ADHD. He knew they were genetic and with his own anxiety and ADHD diagnoses in early adulthood he thought they might have something to do with it, and on the surface, some of the symptoms lined up with everything.

But there were certain key things about them that made him reconsider. Before the sudden nightmares, David had been a relatively carefree child. He didn’t worry excessively and he wasn’t overly attached to Richie. He had never struggled with focus or the ability to complete tasks; in fact, he’d opened a new tab- childhood OCD symptoms- because of David’s intense compulsions to finish his tasks and keep everything neat and tidy. Despite that, he knew that OCD was, in itself, just another anxiety disorder. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, knowing what he wanted to type but scared of the results.

David shifts against him, whimpering and fidgeting slightly in his sleep before calming down, and Richie steels himself.

‘Childhood PTSD symptoms’

Enter.

* * *

Friday morning, Richie sets his alarm for 6 am. With David’s recent moods, he knows he’ll need to get them ready earlier so that they can get to the appointment on time. He wakes up groggy and lets David keep sleeping while he takes a quick shower and makes breakfast.

Normally, he’ll just pour a bowl of cereal, maybe make some scrambled eggs. This morning, though, he bribes David with his favorite chocolate chip and banana pancakes- his mother’s recipe, none of that boxed shit- and some bacon. He plates the food and takes a deep breath before going back to his room.

He turns the lamp on and walks up to the bed, placing his palm on David’s back gently. “Hey, buddy,” he says softly, “It’s time to get up.”

David whimpers and turns over but his eyes remain closed. Richie shakes him a little, trying to wake him as gently as he can. In the past, David slept like the dead, but with his nightmares he’s been sleeping pretty lightly. “It’s time to wake up, baby,” he says, this time a little louder. David’s eyelids flutter and he mumbles something Richie can’t hear. Richie helps him sit up and put his glasses on, ruffling his hair.

“I made pancakes,” he says, and David’s face lights up. Richie smiles brightly, laughing a little in hysterical relief. He hasn’t seen David look this happy in weeks now.

“Chocolate and banana?” he asks, jumping out of bed and running to the kitchen as Richie nods. Richie laughs and follows him, helping him in his chair and tucking a napkin into his shirt. 

“You remember what we’re doing today?” he asks as he sits down in front of his own plate. He pours syrup on each of their pancakes. He cuts the pancakes on David’s plate into small squares. David nods as he chews on his bacon. “Good. How are you feeling about it?”

David shrugs and moves on to his next piece of bacon. Richie sighs, eating his own breakfast.

After breakfast, they struggle through getting dressed and out the door. David was in a better mood than usual, but he was still irritable and anxious. The results of his google search the other day flash behind his eyes, taunting him.

_ Childhood PTSD symptoms _

He turns right into the parking lot, circling around a little to decide where he wants to park.

_ Experiencing nightmares or flashbacks about the trauma _

David wraps his arms around his neck as he carries him inside to the therapist’s office.

_ Acting impulsively or aggressively _

He cries as they walk inside and Richie checks them in, struggling to get his wallet out and hand the receptionist his insurance card and debit card. He smiles apologetically and she smiles back, a knowing look in her eyes.

_ Feeling nervous or anxious frequently _

David refuses to play with anything in the waiting room, choosing instead to wiggle impatiently at his feet and picks at the threads in the carpet while Richie fills out all the paperwork.

_ Reliving the event constantly in thought or in play _

He takes the paperwork back to the receptionist and she informs him that Dr. Kaspbrak will come to get them soon. He nods and walks back to his chair, David staring blankly at him. He shudders involuntarily and sits.

_ Acting hopeless, helpless, or withdrawn _

Richie grabs a book and begins to read to him, doing Voices and acting characters out as he goes. David smiles but otherwise refuses to show any other reaction, and Richie’s chest tightens. He really hopes this psychiatrist can help.

The door swings open and, in any other situation, Richie would be tripping over himself to flirt with this man. He’s shorter than Richie, a few inches off from six feet. He has short brown hair that is carefully swept to the side and out of his face and the prettiest, most soulful brown eyes he has ever seen. He wears a sensible pale blue button-down and tailored grey trousers. He thinks the man is wearing designer loafers, but he can’t be sure.

“David Tozier?” he calls, and Richie waves in confirmation. He manages to convince David to hold his hand and walk with him towards Dr. Kaspbrak, though he can tell he isn’t very enthusiastic about it. “Hi, David. My name is Eddie.”

“Hi, Eddie,” David mumbles.

Eddie smiles gently, “My office is just behind this door. Do you want your daddy to come with you or do you want him to stay here?”

David looks at him expectantly, “It’s up to you, buddy,” he says, despite the swell of anxiety he feels at leaving David alone, “Whatever you want.”

David thinks for a moment, biting his lip, “Can you wait?” he asks quietly.

“Of course I can, sweetheart,” he says, “I’ll be right in here, though, okay?”

David nods and gives him a hug before letting go of his hand to hesitantly take Eddie’s, the other man leading him to his office with a kind smile and unimposing presence. Richie watches as the door closes behind them, breathing shakily. He stumbles back to his chair, falling into it. He ignores the looks that the other parents shoot him. He takes his phone out of his pocket and waits, fidgeting with the apps and games he has on there.

30 minutes and a 15-minute phone call to Stan later, Eddie is coming back in with David. Richie stands and wipes his hands on his jeans, picking David up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“How’d it go?” he asks.

“I like Eddie,” David declares, “He let me play with him.”

“Did he now?” he asks, an eyebrow raised to Eddie, who just smiles and shrugs. “Do you wanna play in here for a bit while Eddie and I go have a grown-up talk? We’ll be right by the door the whole time, okay?”

David nods, practically leaping out of his arms to go to the kinetic sand in the opposite corner. Eddie leads him to the small corner by the door with two chairs sitting adjacent to one another. Eddie sits closest to the door so that Richie can keep an eye on David.

Eddie jumps right into it, “I’ll have to schedule a diagnostic appointment with him, but I strongly suspect your son is suffering from symptoms of PTSD.”

Richie nods, letting out a shaky breath, “Fuck,” he says quietly, “I didn’t want to believe it, but-”

“Didn’t want to believe what?” Eddie asks, his brows furrowed.

“I was worried about him, you know? And I have some mental health issues in my family, just ADHD and anxiety, so I looked it up but they didn’t really fit or anything, so…” he sighs, “I started doing some research on other stuff, OCD and… and PTSD. That one made the most sense, from what I found, I just didn’t want to think that…”

“Ah.”

“I mean, I don’t even know what-”

“I understand,” Eddie says reassuringly, “These things can be really scary, and as much as we want to, we can’t always protect them.”

“The world is cruel,” Richie agrees, “Do you have kids?”

“A daughter,” Eddie confirms, “She’s 18 months, now.”

“So you get it.”

“More than you can even know,” Eddie laughs, “Stan gave me a heads up, said you’d be coming in with your son. He told me you take care of him yourself?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, “Got my girlfriend pregnant when we were pretty young, she was only 19, I was 21. She carried him to term but changed her mind at the last minute, and I promised her that I’d always take care of the baby no matter what. I kept that promise.”

“That’s admirable,” Eddie says, “Most guys wouldn’t have, I don’t think. My daughter was with my ex-wife; we ended up separating and I recently got custody, so it’s just me and her.”

“I thought I remembered Stan mentioning you were a single dad. Things have just been pretty hectic the last couple of weeks, so I think I forgot.”

“That’s understandable,” Eddie nods. His face becomes serious, “Mr. Tozier-”

“Just Richie, please.”

“Richie,” he corrects, “I think your son has recently experienced something very traumatic. He wouldn’t give me any details about anything that may have happened, but he told me some things about his nightmares.”

“Wait, seriously? He wouldn’t tell me anything, how-?”

“He didn’t say anything directly,” Eddie says, “He sort of showed me.”

“How so?”

“Action figures and dolls,” Eddie explains, “Children with PTSD will often reenact their trauma through playtime. When I asked him if what he showed me was real or imagined, he told me that he dreamt of it. Some of it was rather fantastical, but I think it had some truth to it.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“First, we get a formal diagnosis. You can schedule that with the receptionist, we’ll do it here in my office. After that, we figure out what happened. We may end up having to get the police or social services involved. Until then, I want to start seeing him every weekday after the diagnosis, regardless of the results. We’ll work with your schedule if need be.”

Richie let out a deep breath, watching as David giggled at the sand. He’d kill whoever made his little boy hurt like this if he had to. “Thank you, Eddie. Seriously.”

“No need to thank me, Richie. I’ll do whatever I can to help. Now, tell me more about his symptoms.”

“It started with the nightmares,” Richie starts, “Scared the shit out of me; it came so suddenly.”

They sit there for nearly 20 minutes, and despite the heaviness of it, Richie can feel a weight lifted off his chest. He knows what’s happening now, and he can start to fix it.

Eddie ends up giving him several suggestions on helping David, leading up to his diagnosis.

“He was happy when you gave him pancakes, so give him pancakes more often,” Eddie says, “It doesn’t have to be the only thing you eat, and you can pair it with something healthy to offset the sugar and the carbs, but maintaining a positive mood is essential to his recovery. Take the little things and make them a little bigger, a little more consistent.”

So he makes pancakes every morning. He even calls his mom and asks her how he might make it a little healthier, and she points him to a few recipes online. David is ecstatic, even going so far as to wake Richie up early to make breakfast. Things are still rocky, but David is happier, more open than before. He’s even let Richie play with him a few times; something he originally had been enthused over, before David began making the dolls act more aggressive.

Anger washes over him as he watches his son play. He didn’t know who exactly had done this, but as the scene plays out and David makes Richie participate, it becomes clear  _ where. _

“Daddy, what’s wrong? You don’t wanna play?” David asks, eyes wide.

“Of course I do, buddy!” he reassures him, schooling his face, “I was just thinkin’ about work, you know me. Now what’s next?”

He calls Eddie’s office during David’s nap, exchanging small talk with the sweet receptionist- Amanda, he now knows- while they wait for Eddie to be done with his appointment. They talk for about 10 minutes before Eddie comes to the phone.

“Richie, what’s up?”

“Hey, Eddie,” he greets, biting his lip, “Something happened while I was playing with David earlier. I’m not sure if it’s actually something I should worry about, but…”

“Do you want to set up an earlier appointment for the diagnosis?”

“No, no, we can keep it for Thursday. He’s doing good, it’s just- I’m pretty sure his daycare is involved in this, somehow. Every time we’ve played with his dolls and he started- well, it’s always at the daycare center. When he was with you, was-?”

“Yeah,” Eddie confirms, “It was at the daycare, but he said it was underneath, like in a basement or cavern of some sort. It was a whole “defeat-the-evil” battle scene, but he never mentioned who or what the evil was.”

“He hasn’t done anything like that at home,” Richie admits, “And it’s never in the same place at the daycare, but it’s always really violent and aggressive. He’s always had an active imagination, but it’s never been this specific when it comes to location and he’s never been aggressive.”

Eddie hums, and there’s a moment before he says anything, “Okay, so I wrote some notes in his file so we have documentation. If you can, write down what happens during these playtime scenarios. If he’s reliving his trauma- which I strongly suspect is the case- it’s possible there are some other consistencies we’ve missed. I always audio record my sessions so I’ll go back and make a transcript for that.”

“What should I do for him? Is there anything I  _ can  _ do?”

“Call the daycare and inform them of what’s going on. More likely than not, if anyone hurt him, it’s a teacher. They have the most frequent access to the children, and David would have trusted them. Hopefully they can be helpful, and even if they aren’t, you need to let them know David will no longer be attending the school.”

“Okay. Thank you Eddie, seriously.”

“Of course. This is a serious matter.”

Richie sighs, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses, “Do you think it would be better to move up the diagnosis? I don’t want to make things worse, and I just…”

“At this point, waiting a couple of days for the diagnosis isn’t going to hurt him or make anything worse. He’s at home with you, he’s safe. If anything, it may help to wait, like we discussed Friday.”

“Good, good…”

“Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“This isn’t your fault.”

Richie bit his lip, restraining a sob. “Isn’t it, though? It’s my job to protect him, and I-”

“You did everything you could. You’re doing better than-” Eddie pauses, “You’re just handling this very well, okay? There’s no way for us to predict the future, but we do have control over our actions of the present. All you can do right now is love him.”

Richie nods, “Thank you.”

He’s not sure how much he believes Eddie right now, but it makes him feel better regardless.

* * *

He’s been keeping Bill updated on David’s situation since the first appointment. At first, he’d been a little scared that they would demand he return back to work, or fire him, but he knew he shouldn’t have worried.

“You just focus on taking care of your kid,” Bill insists, “We’re here for you, whatever you need. If you can get work done from home, that’s great. If not, don’t worry about it.”

“Bill, I can’t afford-”

“We’re not gonna stop paying you. You haven’t taken a single day off for yourself since you joined us; the producers owe you months worth of PTO at this point, anyways. Take the time to be with him.”

He’s sitting in the waiting room of Eddie’s office again, waiting. It’s technically after office hours, and Amanda left a few minutes ago, but Eddie had insisted on seeing David for his diagnosis before a week had passed since the last appointment.

He pretends to play solitaire for about 15 minutes before he gives up, calling Bill. It rings a few times before he picks up. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey. I’m in the waiting room right now, the psychiatrist is seeing David for his diagnosis.”

“Do you think it’s gonna be PTSD?”

“At this point I’m not sure how it could be anything else,” Richie admits.

“Well, we’re here for you, man. Whatever you need.”

Richie hums, “How’s the writing going?”

“Really good! We really took off with the ideas you sent in, we’re almost done with the season’s first draft.”

“Oh wow, that’s awesome.”

“Do you want me to send everything over so you can read it?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Richie pauses, “I don’t know how long it will take me to read, though. Just depends how David is after…”

“I get it. Just give us whatever feedback you have when you have it, we’ll take this at your pace. We’re way ahead of schedule, we had two more weeks lined up for this first round.”

Richie whistles lowly, “Damn, I hadn’t even realized. It feels like it’s been months.”

Bill laughs, “Going stir crazy?”

“No, not at all. Everything has just been super intense and really fast.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bill sighs, “Hey, I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Could I come over, spend some time with the little guy? I really wanna see him but I don’t wanna freak him out, ya know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Richie says, taking a moment to consider, “I’ll ask David’s psychiatrist, but I don’t have a problem with it. I just wanna check to make sure first. Maybe Stan and Pat can come over too, we can make it a party.”

He’s mostly joking about that last part, although he does miss Stan and the others. He’d love to have them all over but he’s not sure if it would just be overwhelming to David right now; he’d check in with Eddie.

“Sounds good. Let me know, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you, man. Keep me updated, tell David I miss him.”

“I love you, too. And I will.”

He hangs up, tucking his phone back into his pocket. They should be done soon; he probably has time to go to the bathroom real quick, maybe shoot Stan a quick text…

Before he can get up, the door to the waiting room opens, David and Eddie coming through.

“Hey, bubba,” he says softly, getting up to gather David into his arms. David wraps his arms around his neck and buries his face into his shoulder. “You tired?”

David nods, tightening his grip. He looks at Eddie, searching for answers.

_ Is he okay? Did I fuck him up? Do you know who hurt him? Will he ever forgive me? _

“He’s had a long day,” Eddie says, then bites his lip. “I don’t normally do this, but…” He pulls out his phone and opens it, typing in a new contact before handing Richie the phone. “So we can contact each other easier.”

Richie takes the phone and inserts his number, reaching into his pocket carefully so as not to dislodge David while he adds Eddie’s phone number in once he shoots him a text.

“So?” he asks, wanting to know what the next steps are, but not sure what to say in front of David. Eddie seems to understand what he’s asking; he sinks into the same chairs they sat in last week, gesturing for Richie to sit next to him. He does, readjusting David so he’s comfortable in his lap.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and Richie knows what he means by it. He’s confirming Richie’s worst fears in just one word, one syllable, one breath. “These next steps are going to be rough, but David is strong. He’ll make it through.”

“When do you want to start the regular appointments? I’m available whenever, so…”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any room in my office hours for David right now,” Eddie grimaces, “We can keep this time, but I have to be frank with you here. I’m the only parent my daughter has right now, and there are days when my babysitter will have to bring Marissa up here. She’s going to school part time and she has her own kid to take care of.”

“That’s fine with me, I mean, if you want I can watch her while you’re with David.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie knits his brows, “I mean, I could always find another sitter to watch her during these appointments-”

“Nonsense,” Richie interrupts, “You’re going out of your way for us here, you’re not even charging extra for it. Let me help with this.”

Eddie bites his lip, “Alright, yeah, that’s fine with me.”

Richie smiles, then thinks about his conversation with Bill. “Oh, hey, I have a question for you.”

“Hm?”

“I was talking to a friend of mine earlier- he’s also kind of my boss, but it’s whatever- he was wondering if it would be alright to see David right now.”

David perks up, “Uncle Bill is gonna come over?”

Richie laughs, “If Doctor K thinks it’s okay, yeah. Stan and Pat, too, if you want?”

David nods rapidly, turning his head to Eddie, pleading. Eddie smiles, “With a reaction like that I don’t see why not.”

Richie laughs, looking down at David as he squirms in his lap, “What do ya say, kiddo? Want everyone to come over and hang out?”

“Yes yes yes yes yes!” David shrieks, causing the two men to laugh in amusement.

“Then I guess it’s settled,” Richie jokes, “Can’t say no to that.”

Eddie considers him for a moment, a smile gracing his features but his face largely unreadable. “You sure can’t.”

Richie blushes slightly, ducking his head. David tilts his head, considering the two adults before shrugging, jumping up to go play now that his energy levels have shot back up from the excitement. He runs to the building blocks this time, building towers and knocking them down with shrieks of laughter.

They watch him for a moment before diving into next steps: Richie’s already contacted the daycare, and the director had been reasonably shocked, immediately agreeing to not only participate, but also offering to refund his expenses for the entire year. It was far more than he’d been expecting, and he was grateful to say the least. 

“As a mandatory reporter, I am going to have to report this to social services. I’ll be making it clear to them that you were not involved in any incidents, and I will inform them where I believe the abuse has taken place according to my sessions with David as well as the documentation we’ve both been working on compiling, but you will be receiving a phone call from whoever the case is assigned to.”

Richie nods; he’d been expecting it. “They’re not going to try and take him from me, are they?”

“No. For better or for worse, social workers place a focus on family integrity. They won’t remove a child from any home unless they have deemed it absolutely necessary, which won’t happen with your case.”

Richie nods, “What are they going to do?”

“They’ll start by taking him to an abuse specialist,” Eddie explains, “They will examine him for physical signs of abuse and determine from there what may have occurred.”

“I haven’t seen any bruises or injuries on him,” Richie says, “They’re not gonna find anything like that.”

“I know. It’s possible that we caught the abuse early, before it became physical. Abusers follow a cycle of abuse that involves a tension building period; oftentimes there will be mental or emotional abuse far before the abuser resorts to physical violence.” He grimaces, then adds, “And it’s always possible that the abuse was sexual.”

Richie heaves in a deep breath, processing. They’re talking about his child right now; his baby boy, his life. He may not have been beaten, but he had been hurt. And he wasn’t there to stop it.

“When do police get involved?”

“The moment child services contacts them, they’ll start a criminal investigation. You’ll hear from the NYPD, as well. This kind of case usually goes to the Special Victims Unit. I’ll be working closely with investigators and social workers, we’ll do our best to keep you as up to date as possible.”

“When are you contacting them?”

“As soon as I physically am able to. Late tonight, most likely.”

Richie nods, looking over to his son. The weight he’s been carrying increases by the day, filled with worries and doubts and questions. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, meeting his eyes, “It’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be okay. We’re both here for him, right?”

Richie nods, emotions overcoming him. He can’t hold back the tears, sniffles quietly making their way out, alerting David. “Daddy?”

“I’m fine, buddy,” Richie says, but David doesn’t look like he believes him. He abandons the toys, clambering back into Richie’s lap, clumsily wiping away the tears on his face. Richie laughs when he knocks his glasses out of place.

“Don’t cry, daddy, I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

“I know, baby, it’s okay.”

David shakes his head, “Uh-uh!”

“You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

“Uncle Stan says there’s no such thing as being too smart.”

“He does say that, doesn’t he?” he says, pride swelling in his chest. “Doctor K and I are just about done here. Do you wanna clean up for us while we finish talking?”

David pouts but gets out of his lap, doing as Richie asked. He smiles gently. Eddie returns the look, fondness swimming in his dark brown eyes. “I’ll text you after I call them. You two go home and relax, get some rest. You both have a long journey ahead of you.”

“You too, Eds,” Richie says, and he’s not entirely sure where the nickname comes from, but it feels right. Eddie doesn’t seem to agree, his mouth twitching in annoyance.

“Don’t call me that.”

Richie laughs, ignoring him, “Go home and see your daughter. Hug her tight and don’t let her go, okay?”

“I always do.”

* * *

Eddie texts that night, just after he’s put David to bed.

**Doctor K** :  _ Sorry it took so long, Marissa was freaking out when I got home. She’s not used to me being gone for so long. Just got off the phone with the hotline, they’ll let me know tomorrow who is assigned to the case. You should expect a phone call first thing in the morning. _

He texts exactly as Richie expected: Full punctuation, proper grammar. It makes a smile come to his face, giddy and a little dorky. No one is around to see it, so he can’t be embarrassed about it.

**Richie** :  _ No problem dude _

**Richie** :  _ If you need to Marissa can always be at our appointments so her schedule isn’t too out of whack _

**Richie** :  _ Thanks for letting me know _

He puts his phone in his pocket, not expecting Eddie to text him back immediately; he knows the ordeals of raising a toddler, especially when you’re not around all day. He’d just started working for Bill and the studio when David was around the same age, and it had been a very rough time, to say the least. He washes the dishes and puts them away, surprised when he checks his phone to see a notification there already.

**Eddie** :  _ Why am I not surprised that you send multiple texts in a row? And thanks, I’m really considering it. She still hasn’t fallen asleep yet, but she’s calmed down. I think she’s on her way to dreamland. Fingers crossed. _

Richie laughs, shocked to realize the most he’s laughed lately has involved Eddie, somehow. He tries not to think about it too hard; he’s acknowledged his attraction to him, but it would be fully inappropriate bordering illegal to pursue his child’s psychiatrist romantically. And anyways, he’s got more to worry about than his own love life. Even if Eddie feels the same way, they both have their own children to focus on in addition to their professional lives. He sighs.

**Richie** :  _ And I’m not surprised that you send perfectly worded and structured texts yourself _

**Richie** :  _ If I’m being honest the only reason you’re seeing capital letters and decent spelling is because I can’t be bothered to turn those automated settings off _

**Richie** :  _ Oh and if Stan hasn’t told you this one already stroke her eyebrows really soft _

**Richie** :  _ Patty told me that one when David was that age and it saved my life _

He finishes the laundry and vacuuming- he still isn’t sure how David sleeps through that one, but whatever- and realizes that apart from deep cleaning, everything else is finished. “Huh,” he says, shrugging his shoulders and settling into the couch with his laptop. Might as well get some work done. As the documents load, he checks his phone, snorting at the message.

**Eddie** : _ I’m going to murder Stan for hiding that from me. Thanks for the tip. _

He’s not sure why the message causes his heart to race or blood to heat his cheeks, but it does regardless. Edward Kaspbrak is going to be the death of him, he’s certain of that.

* * *

The next day, he receives a call from one Michael Hanlon at 9 AM sharp.

“Hello?” he answers, vaguely distracted as David finishes his breakfast. Today’s spread included whole wheat banana pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fruit. He’s pretty proud of it.

“Hello, is this Mr. Richard Tozier?” an unfamiliar voice asks, and he perks up, remembering Eddie telling him the social worker would be contacting him this morning.

“This is him,” he confirms.

“Perfect. My name is Michael Hanlon and I work with social services. I’ve been assigned to your son’s case.”

“Oh, good,” he says, somewhat stupidly. What does that even mean? He clears his throat, “I mean, uh, I’m relieved that this is being taken seriously. I’m really worried about him.”

“You and me both,” Hanlon says, “I just got off the phone with Dr. Kaspbrak, he tells me you have an appointment this evening?”

“That’s correct.”

“I will be stopping by to observe the session,” he informs him, “I’d like it if you could arrive early so I may speak to you and David privately. Say 4:30?”

“That works for me. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Not at this time, but keep in mind that this will be a lengthy process involving a lot of uncomfortable questions and impromptu home visits. You won’t hear from the police department too much at this stage, they’ll be focusing on investigating the daycare, but you and David will more likely than not be required to testify.”

Richie swallows. He’s been expecting that, but hearing it said aloud makes it real. David will have to testify, will have to relive his trauma in front of strangers with their own agendas. He hates it.

“I expected that,” he admits quietly.

“I also wanted to inform you that I was about to leave the office to make a visit to the daycare. I haven’t contacted them, they don’t know I’m coming. If you have any concerns about them, such as retaliation or unauthorized contact, please let me know immediately. You can text or call this number anytime, it’s my direct line. And if you or David need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hanlon.”

“Feel free to call me Mike.”

“Okay, Mike,” Richie says, “In that case, please just call me Richie. Mr. Tozier just reminds me of my grandfather.”

“Not your dad?” Mike jokes lightly, and Richie decides he likes him.

“No, my dad was Doctor Tozier. Dentist.”

“Ah, my apologies then. I’ll be in contact.”

“See you this evening.”

He hangs up. Runs a hand through his hair. Adjusts his glasses. This is really happening. David is really hurt, so bad he’s got PTSD. He doesn’t even know what happened, not exactly. He doesn’t even know who. 

But he’s bound to find out, now. They’re investigating the daycare, dropping in on therapy visits and, eventually, his own home. It’s going to be an inescapable whirlwind of trauma, pain, and confusion. The investigation may end and the trial may come to a pass, but even after it all, David will never be the same. Nothing Richie does can erase what happened, nothing he says will ever really make David feel safe again, ever make him trust a stranger again.

This isn’t something he can fix with his hands or his words. This isn’t even something he can fix with a hug and kiss, with all the love in his heart and beyond. The most he can do now is be there for David, and even that is finite. Eventually, David will have to go out into the world on his own again, and they’re both going to have to figure out how to trust whoever is standing by him to do what Richie couldn’t.

And what if it all just happens again? What if, the next time Richie lets him go, he gets hurt? What if he becomes irreparably damaged, never able to recover? Will he ever forgive Richie? Will Richie ever forgive himself? Will they even survive it?

He doesn’t know, and that terrifies him. He has no idea what comes after. He doesn’t even know what comes now, or tomorrow, or next week. He doesn’t know a goddamn thing.

* * *

Mike Hanlon is a tall, broad man who looks like he could throw Richie across the room if he chose to. His face and demeanor, however, are that of a puppy craving love and attention. Richie immediately wants to give him a hug, and only barely refrains from doing so. His handshake is firm but not painful, and his eyes are kind. His face is clean-shaven and round in a way that makes Richie think he would look unfairly sexy with some stubble; not that he isn’t attractive already, but damn.

“Hi, David. I’m Mike.”

David doesn’t say anything, but he seems to be considering the man before them. It’s more attention than he’s given most strangers lately; they’d gone to the grocery store today and, when an old lady had tried to talk to him, he’d huffed and turned away. It’s relieving to know that David is instinctually trustful enough of Mike that he’s able to put aside some of his fear. In addition, Mike isn’t even put off by the lack of reaction.

“I’m gonna be watching over your session with you and Doctor Kaspbrak today, if that’s alright with you?”

David thinks about it for a moment before he just asks, “Why?”

“I just wanna see how you’re doing,” Mike explains, “It’s really important for me to know how you’re feeling right now.”

“Why?” David asks again.

“Has your dad explained to you what’s going on?”

David nods; Richie has had multiple conversations with David, usually at night before they get ready for bed. Eddie had suggested having an open and honest conversation before their bedtime routine so that David could feel safe at home, even with his nightmares, and so that Richie could feel like David trusts him. It’s been working well so far, but David still hasn’t revealed any details and he continues to sleep in Richie’s bed with him. Eddie has reassured him that this is normal, and David is making good progress so far.

“It’s my job to make sure that you feel safe and happy,” Mike explains, “In order to do that, there’s a lot for me to do. The first thing is seeing your progress with Doctor Kaspbrak; the next is seeing how you’re feeling at home with your dad, but that won’t come until later.”

David still looks hesitant to this stranger’s sudden introduction into his life, but he nods. “I promise I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, okay? I won’t say or do anything while I’m in there unless you absolutely want me to. If you want, your dad can even come in.”

David looks at Richie. “Do you want me there?” he asks; Marissa was supposed to be there for Richie to watch, but he and Eddie had already discussed the possibility. In the case that David wanted him in there, he’d ask Amanda to stay and pay her overtime for her troubles.

David shakes his head, “I’ll be okay, daddy.”

Richie nods. It still hurt, knowing that David didn’t want him in there, but it made sense. Eddie explained that many children suffering from trauma were embarrassed by it, and didn’t want their parents to be there when they discussed it, at least not in the beginning.

About 15 minutes before Amanda was supposed to leave for the day, a red-headed woman around his age walks in with 2 children in tow. He doesn’t get a good look at her face because the toddler in her arms is covering her, but she seems vaguely familiar.

He turns to Mike and thanks him. The man is kind but professional, and Richie gets the feeling that while he’s largely unimposing around children, in the event of things going south he would be a formidable figure to have on his side.

“Marissa, honey, I need to put you down now, okay?” the woman says, and Richie winces in sympathy at her tone of voice. Toddlers were a handful and a half on the best of days. He turns back to the two. The other child is older, around 6. He clutches the woman’s hand but otherwise stays out of the way. His hair is a strawberry blond, combed neatly out of his face. He’s a little chubby in the way that kids should be, face and belly round and healthy.

The toddler- Marissa, which Richie recognizes is Eddie’s little girl- fusses when the woman tries to set her down, so Richie jumps up to help. “Hi, you must be Eddie’s babysitter, I’m-”

“Richie?” the woman says, standing up straight now, and Richie blinks. Oh.

“Beverly Marsh, is that you?” he grins. He hasn’t seen her in, oh-

“How long has it been?” she beams, bringing him in for a brief hug, “At least 10 years?”

“Something like that, yeah,” he laughs, squeezing her tightly.

Beverly has changed enough that it takes him a moment to reconcile the little girl he knew and played with in elementary school into junior high with the woman standing before him, but when she grins he’s reminded of all the trouble they’d gotten into together and he knows.

Beverly Marsh has and always will be his number one partner in crime.

“I can’t believe it’s really you.” she marvels, then notices David- who is now clinging to his pant leg insistently- and adjusts her grip on Marissa and the other boy’s hand as she kneels down to his level.

“Who’s this?” she asks softly. David doesn’t answer, but he relaxes slightly.

“That’s David,” Richie explains, “He’s my son.”

“Never thought I’d see you of all people living the white picket fence life,” she teases.

“I’m not,” he laughs, “It’s just the two of us. No spouses or pets or white picket fences to speak of.”

She hums, and Eddie walks into the waiting room area, leading his last patient and her father out. He spares the group a glance, acknowledging the social worker with a nod and a curious glance at Richie and Beverly, before focusing on the father-daughter pair and Amanda as she checks them out and sets up their next appointment.

Beverly stands, and Richie offers his arms out to hold Marissa for her, which she gladly allows him to do. Marissa pouts a little bit but doesn’t say anything; Richie’s pretty sure she hasn’t seen her father yet, otherwise she would be far more excitable. 

“And who’s that?” Richie asks, gesturing to the boy holding her hand.

“This is my son, Nicholas. It was just the two of us for a while but I have a boyfriend now. Usually, he would be home with him while I’m taking care of Marissa for Eddie, but he had to go into the office today.”

Nicholas waves at him somewhat shyly, so Richie waves back while making a silly face. He giggles and looks up at his mom, which she gives him a smile for.

“We should probably get going,” Bev says apologetically, “I have to catch the train on time if I plan on making it to class tonight.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and gestures for him to add his number, which he does. He can feel the vibration in his pocket after she shoots him a text. “Catch up later?”

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees. “Get home safe.”

“We will.”

Bev waves goodbye, nodding at Eddie so that he knows she’s headed out. He waves back in acknowledgement, still discussing something with Amanda as she packs up to leave. Nicholas looks back at Richie at the last moment, grinning. Richie waves his hand, and as the door shuts he can see him light up before tugging on his mom’s hands. The door clicks and he can still hear him babbling excitedly to Beverly, though he can’t hear what’s being said. He smiles to himself, delighted at unexpectedly running into her again after so many years. 

David starts tugging on his hand insistently, making little frustrated noises. It’s jostling Marissa, who had started to calm down, causing her to start crying. Richie adjusts Marissa in his arms and David starts getting more agitated, his brows furrowed. “Daddy,” he huffs, and Richie sits down in an attempt to pay adequate attention to both of the kids.

“Hey, it’s okay bud, I’m just gonna be watching Marissa while you’re hanging out with Doctor K, alright?” he says, knowing that David’s frustration lies in Richie paying attention to another kid. He’s used to being the only child, and now that Richie is spending more time with him David gets very cranky very quickly when he’s not the center of attention. David pouts and crosses his arms, and Richie sighs softly. 

He’s grateful when Eddie walks over, taking Marissa so that Richie can gather David up in his arms. Amanda is standing next to him, eyebrows raised in a question. Richie shrugs, focusing his attention on David for a moment.

“Is that better?” he asks softly. David nods. “You sure you don’t want me in there?” David nods again, averting eye contact. He nods at Amanda, who offers a gentle smile in return and says her goodbyes.

He keeps David in his lap for a bit, knowing that Mike is watching carefully, observing their interactions. He tries not to think about it, keeping in mind what Eddie had told him about social services usually working to keep families together. Instead, he watches Eddie as he rocks his daughter in his arms, speaking softly to her. It makes his heart clench in a way that he knows he can’t acknowledge, not right now. Eddie is his son’s therapist; his son, who has just lived through very severe trauma, and needs Richie now more than he ever has before. 

He admires Eddie, certainly, and he’s friendly with him. Friendship is okay; good, even. A natural reaction to two similar personalities being brought together in a situation such as this. But anything more than that? No. He can admit that, objectively, he is attracted to Eddie. He can even say that, had the circumstances been different, he would hope to get to know him better, take him out on a date. Acting on it is out of the question.

So he ignores it, packing it away in a box within his mind that he has labeled “to look at later (ideally never)”. He’s instead thankful that Eddie has managed to soothe his daughter into sleeping, knowing that she would’ve been fussy and upset for the next hour the two would be separated after an entire day of not being able to see him.

“You ready, David?” Eddie asks, and David nods enthusiastically. He climbs out of his lap and Eddie hands Marissa off to him-  _ don’t think about how it makes your heart seize in your chest, don’t think about how much it makes you want to do this every day with him, don’t think about it _ \- and he watches as the three walk into Eddie’s office for the session. 

He sinks back in his chair, looking at the little girl in his arms. She looks a lot like Eddie, soft features scrunched up even in her sleep, tufts of dark blonde hair sticking out every which way. She’s even got her dad’s rounded little nose, button-like and adorable and- Oh. Oh, man. 

He’s in trouble.


	2. Act II: It's Hard To Breathe Sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial begins, and Richie finds himself struggling to manage the stress of raising his traumatized son by himself. Some friends help remind him that he's not alone. Eddie and Richie have an important conversation only to be interrupted by Marissa, who has something very important to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, folks! Or just welcome, to those of you who have just started. There is a lot more time skipping in this one- I really just wanted to establish the trial and some of the things David experienced without getting into detail, and it was a good time for me to introduce some of the characters and their relationships and dynamics and stuff. Act II is the bridge between Act I and III, so it is shorter, but Act III is longer to make up for that. Enjoy!

It’s November now and David has just turned 5. Nothing over the past 6 months has been easy; learning the specifics of the abuse David endured and seeing the man who did these things gave Richie nightmares of his own. David is still sleeping in his bed at night, but he’s been able to get him to take naps in his own room, which he counts as a success. Eddie assures him that it means progress.

The police and social services have wrapped up their investigations and the District Attorney of New York has officially filed several charges of criminal sexual contact against a minor, child abuse, child neglect, and even one count of murder against Robert Gray. The man groomed and abused several children within the facility, David being his latest target. 

By the time David started having nightmares, he hadn’t been touched, but he had witnessed several instances of abuse and neglect. The teacher was one that had been with the facility for nearly three decades, his legacy that of a trail of abuse and lifelong unresolved trauma. It baffled Richie to know that he could get away with such a heinous crime for so long, and he couldn’t help but be grateful that he saw when David was struggling and he did something about it.

He harbored a lot of anger and resentment towards the facility and other parents. Hundreds of children had been hurt by this man- a little girl had been murdered, for god’s sake- and not once had his peers stepped up? Not once had a parent been concerned for their child’s well being? 27 years of abuse and neglect and pain and somehow, Richie is the first parent to notice his child’s pain and get him help.

How did no one notice? And if they did, why the fuck wouldn’t they say something about it? It hadn’t taken the police but a few short weeks to figure out what was going on, and Richie held no love in his heart for the New York Police Department or its methods. So, how?

It takes several conversations with Eddie to keep himself from going out and beating the shit out of anyone involved. “Of course I understand,” he says over the phone one night as both their kids sleep, “I see shit like this every day, I have a daughter, you think I don’t get it?”

Richie sighs, “Of course you do, I wasn’t-”

“Then get your shit together,” he snaps, “David is counting on you to be there for him. He doesn’t need you going out and getting arrested for beating the shit out of someone in his honor, he needs you there.”

He’s right, of course. “Fuck you,” he mutters.

“Fuck you, too.”

It doesn’t make it any easier.

* * *

Bill comes over on a Saturday, Audra and a new toy Richie had asked them  _ not _ to buy in tow. He sighs when he sees the toy but lets them in, giving Bill a tight hug. He’s missed the guy, sue him.

“David, look who’s here to see you,” Richie calls, prompting David to come running in from the living room, screeching. He barrels into Bill, practically hanging off of his leg, chattering excitedly. Bill nods along, though Richie is certain he has no idea what David is talking about. He knows this because  _ Richie  _ doesn’t know what David is talking about, and if he doesn’t know, then no one does. Bill is a good big brother and uncle, though, so he manages to keep up with his nephew’s word vomit.

Audra hooks her arm in his and leans in. “How is he doing?”

“This is the happiest I’ve seen him in weeks,” Richie admits, “With the trial and everything, he’s had to relive  _ everything  _ in vivid detail. His therapist says it’s good for him to work through it now rather than later, but…” He shrugs. It’s hard to see the progress being made when you’re moving at a glacial pace while the rest of the world goes on.

“Well, I hope our visits are helping. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

Richie huffs a bitter laugh in agreement. “It’s not about me, though.”

“No,” Audra agrees, “But that doesn’t mean it’s not affecting you.”

He nods, though he doesn’t say anything. Audra hums a little too knowingly and they follow as David drags Bill into the living room, where his elaborate playtime setup is currently camped out at. His imagination has been less violent, for the most part, though it more or less continues to act out what he’d seen and been subjected to. 

Bill helps him unwrap his gift- some sort of Paw Patrol tower, it looks expensive and Richie has to try very hard not to say anything about it- and put it together. David integrates it seamlessly into his scene from before. It’s an action-adventure-kill-the-bad-guy kind of day. Richie appreciates these the most.

Bill has taken over for him, in a sense, keeping David’s full attention. He feels selfish for saying it, but he’s grateful for the breather; he needs the time to himself now more than ever. He doesn’t get it very often, and Bill is the perfect distraction for his son. Audra sits quietly next to him, merely keeping him company as she watches her husband and nephew.

The peace is cut short by a knock on the door, and Richie can’t help but cringe. David reacts poorly to strangers showing up to their home unannounced, and Richie has no idea who’s at the door. It could range anywhere from a package to some Mormons. Selfishly, he hopes it’s the Mormons. He gets a kick out of fucking with them.

He gets up and answers the door, slightly surprised by who he sees on the other side.

“Mike, hey, come in,” he gestures, stepping aside for the gentle service worker. His home visits, as promised, always come as a surprise.

Mike Hanlon, as it turns out, is somewhere in the middle of the delivery man-Mormon spectrum. A benevolent presence, albeit one that will be taking up their time in a spectacular manner, the man always manages to hit dead center on pleasant versus unpleasant. 

Richie invites him in, as he always does. He walks into the living room where David almost always is when he’s over, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of Audra on the couch and Bill on the floor with David.

“Uh- hi.”

What the fuck?

“H-hi,” Bill says, smiling shyly. Richie hasn’t seen him like this since he met Audra 3 years ago.

_ What the fuck? _

“Well, hello,” Audra greets. It’s practically a purr.

_ What. The. Fuck? _

He clears his throat, gaze flickering between the three fully grown adults acting like horny teenagers in his living room, directly in front of his 5-year-old son. “So what brings you here Mike? I thought we were done with home visits now that the trial has started.”

“Ah, right,” Mike clears his throat, “This isn’t a home visit, actually. I wanted to-” he pauses, looking at David, who continues to play peacefully in his little corner of the world. “Well.”

“Right,” he says, taking the hint, “Coffee?”

“That’d be great.”

Richie leads Mike to the kitchen, trusting Audra and Bill to watch his son. He doesn’t keep up with the pretense of coffee, though he does grab a glass from the cabinet for some water, “So what’s up? The bail hearing was today, right?”

“Right,” Mike confirms, “Richie… the judge denied the prosecutor’s request for remand.”

His gaze turns steely and his jaw clenches, “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I wish I was,” Mike shakes his head, “But this judge is all about the letter of the law, and Gray has no means to flee. Innocent until proven guilty, and such.”

“Motherfucker,” Richie hisses, anger welling up within him.

“They’ve filed an appeal, but…”

“Yeah.”

He’s not sure what to do with this information. Does he tell David or keep it from him? What happens if he keeps it from him and they go out to the grocery store or something only to run into his abuser? What will this do for his mental health?

Frankly, the only thing that stops him from leaving the house right this second to beat the son of a bitch to death is David. He forces himself to breathe, knuckles turning white as he grips the glass in his hands.

“Fortunately, he’s still prohibited from coming within 50 feet of any child, so that ought to keep him on house arrest just by sheer obligation.”

“Awesome,” he mutters somewhat bitterly, “He’s not in jail but at least he’s not allowed to get near kids, right? Not like anyone’s fucking monitoring this fucker.”

Mike ducks his head and doesn’t respond, knowing that Richie isn’t exactly wrong. “Listen, Rich,” he hesitates, “We’re not in a good place in this trial right now, but with this judge, we have a really good chance of winning the case, okay? Warren will see the evidence, he’ll see the confession, the  _ jury  _ will  _ see it all _ , they’ll indict. No question about it.”

“And what about sentencing, huh? Do we have any kind of guarantee on what will happen there?”

“There’s never a guarantee when it comes to this justice system, I know you know that,” Mike responds, always so no-nonsense with that air of gentle calm that forces Richie to take a breath. “With that being said, the sheer amount of charges against this guy is a reason for hope. Don’t forget that.”

Richie scoffs, “Don’t get me wrong here, Mike, I’m super stoked about seeing this guy rot in prison but-” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, displacing his glasses, “This is gonna take years and I don’t know how much longer I can take this by myself.”

Mike spares a kind smile that reaches his eyes despite the earnest pain and sympathy that lingers there, “You’re not alone in this, Richie. You have me and Eddie and Stan. Don’t forget that.”

Richie bites his lip at the mention of Eddie, mind lingering on the argument they’d had not too long ago. He should call him, probably. Apologize or something. Maybe even have a conversation outside the realm of professional, just barely toeing that line they both know they can’t cross. Mike definitely notices if that grin is anything to go by. 

Richie squints at him, “Don’t give me that look, Michael.”

“Whatever do you mean, Richard?” Mike retorts in mock offense, holding a hand over his chest.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you with Bill and Audra in there.”

Mike’s mouth quirks up in a smirk, “Don’t think I don’t intend to do something about that.”

Richie lets out a laugh, his head tilting back with the force of it. Despite everything, he was glad to have met Mike. He felt like a piece of the puzzle that had been missing since he was a kid and Bev had to move away to Portland was back, Mike and Eddie and Bev and Ben filling in the blank spaces that Bill and Stan had tried to take up for so many years.

* * *

He knows he couldn’t do this without his friends, which is why when Bev comes over later that week with Nicholas and Ben in tow, he tells her everything, no bars held. They listen intently while Nicholas and David play in the living room, tea gone cold.

Bev puts a hand over Richie’s as he finishes his rant, “And I know we have a long way to go but I love him, Bev. I love his baby girl, David loves them both, and I- I don’t know what to do, you know? David will always be my priority just like Marissa will always be his, so we know this can’t happen right now, but it just makes everything that much harder.”

She’s silent for a moment, and normally he’d be awkward- especially in Ben’s presence, he just met him like an hour ago- but he feels surprisingly light. Eddie might be onto something with that therapy thing.

“Do you remember my dad?” she asks him, and he startles a little, surprised by the question.

“Wha- yeah, Bev, of course, I remember that piece of shit, are you kidding?”

She smiles wryly, “I married someone exactly like him, you know? Didn’t even leave him until Nicholas was 3 and he-”

“Hey, Bev, no,” Richie says, “That’s not your fault, you have to know that.”

She breathes out, shuddering and slow, “It’s hard to accept that,” she admits, “But I didn’t leave him until Nicholas came to us and insisted that he was a boy, not a girl. And Tom, he-”

He nods. She doesn’t have to finish that sentence or explain much further; her ex was an abusive, bigoted piece of shit. Enough said.

“I thought I was alone, for years after. I wouldn’t let my aunt or any of my friends do anything for me, I blamed myself for everything that had happened,” she continues, maintaining pointed and steady eye contact, “But we’re okay, now, and I know that I have people to fall back on. I always have, and I always will.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, considering. “You’re right.”

She always was.

* * *

The day has come for the first day of testimonies, and Richie is just about melting out of his skin. David is at home with Patty, Audra, and his own mother right now; he won’t have to come in until closer to the end of the testimonials, a few months from now. He’s been reviewing everything with Eddie during their sessions, preparing for the big day.

Bev, Ben, Stan, and Bill have shown up for moral support. Mike and Eddie rode in together, having dropped Marissa off at Richie’s early that morning, going over their own details before they testify in the coming hours and days and weeks ahead. They’ll have a lot more to say, being experts on the case.

They’re just sitting in the courtroom, waiting for it all to begin when the court officers walk past with Gray and his lawyer. Richie looks up, wanting a glimpse of the man who had done these awful things for so long, and is taken aback when Gray fucking  _ winks at him. _ He gapes, shocked by the man’s audacity. What the hell?

“How’s David, Mr. Tozier? I hear he’s seeing a shrink,” Gray says. A smirk stretches across his face, highlighting the pure creep factor that emanates from him. He’s certain he never looked like this in all the time Richie took David to that school. “I’ve missed him  _ terribly. _ We never got to play properly, you know?”

Oh. Oh,  _ fuck  _ no.

He doesn’t remember flying over the bench, launching himself out of Eddie’s grasp. One minute he’s seething in anger, and the next he’s being held back by Ben and Mike. Ben has his arms wrapped around his waist, hoisting him up in his efforts, while Mike has his wrists bound in his own hands. He can feel them shaking with the effort it takes to keep him away from Gray, who is now being escorted roughly by the officers. His lawyer is pale and sweaty, watching the interaction with pain in his eyes. Richie sneers. Serves the roach right, defending someone like that.

The judge must have walked in because the gavel is pounding, echoing in the large courtroom. The press cameras are going crazy snapping photos and reeling footage, chatter bouncing across the walls and ceiling.

“Order!” the judge declares, “Order in the court!”

Richie calms down slightly, watching as the officers roughly guide Gray to his seat, but he refuses to sit back down. Adrenaline shakes him to his core, his spine as stiff as a steel beam. “I’d suggest you find your seat, Mr. Tozier, lest you find yourself in contempt of court.”

He heeds the judge’s warning, trembling in anger along the way, his eyes never leaving Gray’s smug face. Eddie grasps his hand tightly, keeping him held down like an anchor in a stormy sea.

His mind blurs out the rest of the court appointment, adrenaline and anger hitting him in waves. Eddie’s hand in his is the only thing that keeps him down on Earth, his glasses fogging up as he breathes in and out, slow and heavy.

He can feel the looks of concern Eddie shoots him throughout the afternoon but he ignores them in favor of glaring daggers into the back of Gray’s head, hoping that, for once, looks could truly kill a motherfucker.

* * *

They don’t want to leave him after the scene he pulled in court.

If it weren’t for the seven-  _ seven-  _ kids Audra and Patty and his mother had charge of, they probably would have just about insisted on staying the night. As it is, Eddie is the last one to leave Richie’s house as if their friends had made some sort of spoken agreement about it. Knowing them, they definitely had. Those bastards.

Richie hugs his mom on the way out the door, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, my boys,” she whispers, “I’m so proud of you, son. Your father is, too.”

Richie nods, “I know, ma.”

“He’ll be here, next time,” she insists, “He was afraid of crowding the poor boy.”

“Tell him it’s fine, ma,” Richie says, “Seeing his grandpa will do him some good.”

“Alright,” she nods, “I’ll see you next week, honey. Get some rest.”

“Love you.”

He closes the door behind her, sighing heavily. He sees Eddie staring at him from the kitchen table and he prepares himself for what he knows is coming. Instead of approaching Eddie directly like a normal person, though, he moves to the dishrack to start unloading it.

“Richie, listen,” Eddie starts, “We need to talk.”

Richie nods, silently putting away the clean dishes. Eddie sighs and stands, walking up so that they’re standing directly across from each other.

“I’m in love with you,” he admits quietly, “And I’m pretty sure you feel the same way, but-”

“You’re my son’s therapist?” Richie says lightly, nodding at Eddie’s silence. “Yeah.”

They stand in silence for several moments, taking each other in.  _ Where do we go from here _ , they ask one another silently.  _ Can we even go forward _ , Richie wants to know.  _ Do you love me back _ , Eddie asks with his eyes.

“I love you, too,” Richie confirms, “Just, you know. For the record.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, so Richie does what he does best: he talks. “I mean, you know, maybe it’s like trauma bonding or something? Or it’s just like, I don’t know, paternal instincts reacting to me seeing you take care of my son or whatever. Maybe it’s stupid, I guess, but-”

“None of that changes how I feel about you, Rich,” Eddie interrupts, and Richie shuts up. Eddie laughs at that, grabbing Richie’s hand in his own, holding it gently.

Richie shakes his head, biting his lip and laughing.  _ This man,  _ he thinks.  _ He’s perfect for me, if ever there is such a thing.  _

“After the trial,” Eddie says. Richie must look confused because he keeps talking, eyes flickering about the room manically, “When the trial is over, after David has his last session with me- go to dinner? With me?”

Richie grins, “Yeah, of course, I-”

“Daddy!” Marissa’s cry interrupts. They both freeze.

This is the first time Marissa has ever spoken, having been a little behind in that development. It’s the first time she’s ever called Eddie daddy.

They rush in there, not sure what to expect, only to see Marissa and David  _ both  _ pouting with their arms crossed.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Eddie asks, breathless.

“No!” Marissa cries.

“What?” Eddie crouches down next to her, bending down to pick her up.

“No!” she says again, “You papa! Wan’ daddy!”

They freeze. Eddie slowly turns, facing Richie, both their faces pale.

“Baby, we’ve been over this,” Eddie laughs nervously, “That’s Richie.”

“Daddy!” Marissa cries again, more insistent this time, though she doesn’t elaborate. Richie jumps into action, leaning over to pick her up. This seems to make her happy, though David continues to pout up at them. He crawls over to Eddie and promptly sets himself down in his lap.

_ Well, shit. _

“So much for professionalism, huh?” Richie laughs nervously. 

They’re fucked.


	3. Act III: Even If It Takes All Night Or A Hundred Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 years later, Richie and Eddie find themselves at the end of the trial and David's psychiatric visits. With professionalism no longer a boundary, where does their relationship go? And how easy is it, really, to overcome everything they've been through- both as individuals and as a family?

Despite Marissa insistently calling Richie daddy, they don’t take their relationship beyond that.

_ “Richie, I love you, I do,” Eddie insisted, “But we need to consider David and the trial. We need to put that first.” _

_ Eddie hadn’t known what to do when Marissa called Richie daddy. He was upset, at first; his own daughter had called another man her father before him. It hurt. More than that, though, was knowing that Richie couldn’t be that for Marissa right now, no matter how much everyone wanted him to be. _

_ So he’d stayed until Marissa fell asleep. Richie held Marissa and talked to her for a bit before putting her back down to play with David, who was pouting on the floor next to Eddie with his barbies and monster trucks. _

_ “I know, Eds.” _

_ And he did, really. David was his number one priority, forever and always. Marissa had become that for him, too, despite the status of their relationship. He knew Eddie felt the same. _

_ It’s just… well, he was kind of buzzed, after that conversation in the kitchen. Eddie loved him. Eddie knew Richie loved him. Everything was out in the open, and now Marissa was calling him daddy, which meant she’d already become attached to him and- _

_ And there was nothing they could do about it. At most, they could continue as they were, with Eddie counseling David and Richie watching Marissa, with the occasional real-life-support they’d given one another. If Gray’s defense team caught even a whiff of something more than trauma bonded friendliness, shit would get a lot more complicated. _

_ “I just hope the kids will be okay,” Richie finally said. Eddie nodded. _

_ “Yeah. So do I.” _

The trial just finished yesterday, Robert Gray having been sentenced to life for his crimes with no possibility of parole. The daycare had shut down promptly after the start of the jury selection, the news absolutely slamming the directors and other teachers for complacency. Despite this, Richie knows no real change will come out of it; that’s what scares him the most, after all this time. That it could happen again.

He contemplates this as he holds a sleeping Marissa in his arms. His back protests against the hard plastic of Eddie’s waiting room chair, and he can’t help but rejoice at the fact he’ll never have to sit in one again. To distract himself, he reminisces on the 3 years he’s had with Eddie as a friend-slash-co-parent-slash-strictly-professional-acquaintance.

_ There was a little corner store by the courthouse, family owned and operated. Richie always takes David with him when he has to make his court appearances; Eddie had suggested it as a way to give David something to look forward to after reliving The Bad Memories. Something to remind David he was safe with his dad now, something to help him rebuild trust within the community. _

_ Eddie and Marissa are with them today. It had been a struggle, switching around constantly. Richie sat with David during his video-testimony and Eddie watched Marissa until it was his time to testify, Richie taking over watching both of the kids in a boring, sterile building. He was relieved when Eddie had finished up earlier than expected. _

_ Eddie was explaining his history with the owners as they walked, “I’ve known them since I was Marissa’s age,” he said, gesturing excitedly while holding tight to Marissa’s hand, “My dad was best friends with the guy who started it; he’d be my godfather, if my mother hadn’t vehemently protested anything Catholic.” _

_ Richie laughed at that, “I imagine she’d be protesting me if she ever met me.” _

_ “I thought you were Jewish.” _

_ “I am,” Richie said, “Mom was Jewish, Dad was Catholic. We kind of did both and neither at the same time. It was weird.” _

_ “I can only imagine,” Eddie laughed, “My dad was actually Polish Catholic, so I could never work out how my parents ever got together in the first place. But anyway, he died when I was in 6th grade. Mom went kind of crazy after that, so I’d always sneak out and come here when being with my mom was too overwhelming.” _

_ He wanted to ask what he meant by that. He wanted to know everything about Eddie. _

_ Instead, the clerk that usually works the mid-day shift squeals in excitement as they walk in.  _

_ “Eddie! I had no idea you knew my favorite customers!” _

_ Eddie feigns mock offense, “Am I not your favorite?” _

_ “Oh, please,” she waved off, leaning in for a hug, “You’re family. These two, on the other hand, are the highlight of my day whenever they come in.” _

_ “I never did get your name,” Richie said, “I’m Richie, and this is-” _

_ He felt a tugging at his jacket sleeve, and he looked down. David looked nervous, and he swallowed. Breathing carefully to rein in his emotions, he picked David up. _

_ “This is my son.” He doesn’t say David’s name; after that look, he can’t bring himself to. _

_ He looked over to see Eddie looking at him sympathetically, tapping his arm gently. _

_ “I’m Brittany,” she said, looking at David curiously. _

_ “What’s good today, Brit?” Eddie asked, successfully diverting the attention off of them as the clerk launches into an excited explanation of what she thinks is the best snack item for the weather. _

_ They stood there for a while chatting before David asked to be let down, curious about the candy aisle. Marissa squirmed in place, held back by Eddie’s firm grip, so Richie grabs her hand. “I got this, you two catch up.” _

_ Eddie nodded and the clerk gushed, “You two are so cute! I didn’t know you were dating someone!” _

_ Eddie shook his head, looking at Richie and the kids longingly, “I’m not.” _

He knows that after this, Eddie will ask him out to dinner- again- and he’s going to say yes. But what next? These 3 years he’s found comfort in knowing that, yes, he’s in love with Eddie and, yes, Eddie loves him too- but they never crossed that boundary they set for themselves. They took care of David and Marissa together, they went to the hearings and the testimonies together, they went to the sentencing together, they celebrated together- but they weren’t  _ together.  _

How will dating change their relationship with each other and with their children? 

He can’t lose Eddie and he sure as hell can’t lose Marissa- and after everything, David sure as hell can’t lose them, either. He knows the same is true for Eddie and Marissa, but things don’t always go as you want them to, do they? He knows that better than anyone.

He also knows that Eddie is a determined, brave little shit. Deep down, he knows that this is right. He’s just in a weird place mentally, and it’s natural to be nervous with these things, right? Stan and Mike and Bev and Ben and Bill and even Audra and Patty have all told him that they were doing the right thing, they’ve all said that he and Eddie are practically married anyway- so really, he’s just worrying over nothing.

Knowing this doesn’t ease the ball of tension that’s nestled its way between his ribs over a period of four years, making a house out of his body and a blazing hearth out of his stress. 

Instead of dwelling, he attempts to clear his mind- tries the breathing techniques Eddie had shown him, the mindfulness exercises Ben had demonstrated- and his mind doesn’t just empty, but at least he’s more focused on trying to do that than thinking about… everything.

He opens his eyes to see that Bev and Nicholas- who’s 11 now, Jesus fuck- sitting silently in the chairs adjacent to him. He smiles, and normally he would have offered Marissa to her by now, but he wants to hold her for just a little longer. He still longs for the days when Nicholas and David and Jacob and Aron were this little, when he was able to carry them with ease. He finds himself clinging to Marissa, Rachel, and Sara more and more often, whenever he has the chance. 

“How are you doing?” Bev asks. He knows what she means by that- knows that she can see the worry and anxiety constantly flashing in his eyes.

“Don’t you worry about little ol’ me,” he grins, “You’re the newly minted graduate! How is the job search going?”

She groans and leans back in her chair. “I’m so tired of Ben being the one to financially support us all the time. Eddie’s always paid me well enough to watch Marissa, but since I stopped doing that I just feel so frustrated anytime money comes up.”

“Ben makes more than enough for the three of you, just let him take care of the finances for now,” Richie says, resisting the sugar daddy joke for Nicholas’ sake. Poor kid actually understands what it means, now. “And you’ll be getting a fancy schmancy position at the New York Times soon enough. No one can resist your fiery charms.” He winks at that, and she can’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Don’t think you’ll get out of talking to me with distraction techniques,” she warns, “The minute I drop David and Marissa back off at yours tomorrow, you are telling me  _ everything.  _ And I do mean everything.”

Richie gasps in faux shock, “Scandalous!” It’s not quite as dramatic as he would usually go for, but with Marissa asleep in his arms he doesn’t want to risk it. His eyes shift to Nicholas, sulking in the corner. He raises an eyebrow pointedly, shifting his eyes between Bev and the kid. She smiles sadly and shakes her head.

Middle school has been rough for Nick. He was outed by an older teacher, despite Bev having talked to the woman prior to classes starting about Nick’s legal name. They still haven’t been able to change it in all the years Nick has identified as Nick. It breaks Richie’s heart to know that he’s going through so much at such a young age.

“Hey, kid,” he says, gaining Nick’s attention, “See any good anime lately?”

He perks up at this, “Yeah, actually,” he grins, “There’s this one from a couple years ago called Hourou Musuko that’s about a trans girl and her friend, who is a trans boy, and it’s really cute! I just finished the episode where they put on a play as a class but everyone has to play the opposite gender, and since they’re not out they get to play characters with the gender they actually identify as! It’s so cool!”

Richie blinks, “Oh, that’s awesome, man!” He’s still surprised anytime someone mentions LGBT characters in media,  _ especially  _ trans characters. He was, admittedly, very ignorant about transgender people before he reunited with Bev- as she admitted she also was, before Nicholas came out- but he’s learned a lot since then. He really fucking loves his nephew, and he’ll kill anyone who says anything against him. 

Bev has refused to disclose the name of the teacher who had outed him for a  _ reason.  _ He has a lot of pent up anger, sue him.

“Have you started Sailor Moon yet?”

“No,” Nicholas says, somewhat sheepishly, “It’s really long and I don’t really have the time for it right now, so I just watch shorter stuff when I can.”

“Hey, no worries here, kiddo,” Richie says, “We’ll have a Richie-is-old anime-binge-sesh one of these days, I promise.”

Nick beams, wiggling happily in his chair. Bev sends him a grateful look and he winks. He’s  _ great  _ with nerdy, lonely middle schoolers who have issues with their self-worth and identity. He relates.

They wait a few more minutes, waving goodbye to Amanda as she makes her way out for the day- she leaves at 4 on Fridays, now- before Eddie walks through the door with David. He has a sudden flashback to the first time he brought David here, barely reaching his waist on his tiptoes, and he tears up. David hit his first growth spurt pretty early; he stands at about 5’0” now. Eddie  _ hates  _ it.

Richie wipes away the tears, not even bothering to hide it as his son spots him and grimaces. “Daddy, why are you crying this time?” he whines, and Richie lets out a deep, bellowing laugh that only embarrasses David further.

He’s really only reacting this way because Nicholas is here; he’s always wanted to impress the older boy, and he hates it when anything makes him look weird in front of him. “You’re just getting so big, baby!”

What kind of dad would Richie be if he didn’t take the chance to lightly embarrass his son? Not a very good one, he’s sure of that.

David blushes a deep red, which Nick graciously pretends not to notice as he launches into a rant about some Pokemon or other. Richie watches them for a while, pretending not to notice Eddie staring down at him. He adjusts Marissa in his arms, gently waking her so that they can say goodbye before Bev takes them for the night.

“Daddy,” she mumbles sleepily. His heart cracks.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he whispers, “David’s done with his appointment. Are you ready to spend the weekend with Aunt Bev and Uncle Ben?”

She perks up at that, immediately wiggling in his grasp to be let down. He does, and she starts jumping up and down excitedly.

“Jesus,” Richie mumbles, standing. He stretches and winces as his back pops.

“I’ll never get used to how she does that,” Eddie whispers.

“I know, right? It’s like a superpower or something.”

Eddie hums and helps Bev with the bags, locking up the office and leading them to the staff parking lot so they can get the kids settled in the van. They don’t say anything to one another as they work, just allowing muscle memory to override the emotional turmoil. They buckle Marissa in first, Eddie hoisting her up onto his hip.

“Are you gonna be good for Aunt Bev tonight?” he asks. Marissa nods rapidly. “Alright. You know my number?” She nods again, rattling off the digits. “Good.” He settles her into the car seat, buckling her in methodically before pressing a wet kiss to her cheek and making her giggle.

“Papa!” she cries, then gives him her own smacking wet kiss to his lips. He grins and backs up, allowing Richie to say goodbye as David and then Nick both pile into the van. Richie blows a raspberry playfully, ruffling David’s hair once he’s settled with a final cry of “Be good!” as he slams the door shut. 

He sighs and backs up onto the curb with Eddie, waving goodbye as Bev drives off with tiny pieces of their souls strapped into her backseat.

“Why is it always so hard to do this?” Richie asks, not exactly expecting an answer. He already knows it, anyway. He learned the hard way what the world can do to your children when you turn your back.

“You know why,” Eddie says anyway. They stand there for a little longer, somewhat awkwardly as the time passes.

“So, uh-”

“Are we still doing this?” Eddie interrupts, and Richie finally looks at him.

His deep brown eyes are nervous, imploring. He’s biting his lip slightly and his fingers are fidgeting down by his waist. Richie takes a deep breath.

“I’d like that.”

Eddie nods, eyes softening, “Me too.” He hesitates, then looks down and wraps the fingers of his left hand tentatively around Richie’s right hand. Richie returns the favor, squeezing gently as their hands interlock. “We’re so stupid,” Eddie scoffs.

“Huh?”

“We’ve been co-parenting for  _ four years,  _ Rich. My daughter literally calls you ‘daddy’.”

Richie grins, “As opposed to you calling me daddy?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie snaps, blushing, “We’re talking about our children, keep your sex jokes out of it.”

_ Our children.  _

“David asked me the other day if he could call you papa,” Richie admits, “He also wants to know when you’re moving in and whether or not we’re getting married. I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re already together.”

Eddie tears up a bit, so Richie leans over to wipe the tears away for him. Eddie smiles in gratitude. “Did we do the right thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not being together,” Eddie elaborates, “It was what we wanted, it was what the kids wanted, we could have- I don’t know. Kept it secret? Just not gave a fuck?”

Richie bites his lip in consideration, “I really don’t know, Eds. I wanna say that we did, but…”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “I know the most logical path was the one we took, but since when have humans ever been logical?”

“You’re the psychologist, you tell me.”

“I’m a therapist, not a psychologist, there’s a difference.”

“What the fuck does it matter? You have like 3 PhD’s, Psychology included.”

“Because it’s about my occupation, not my degree-”

“Eddie, baby, come on,” Richie exasperates, though he’s grinning, “I’m starving. What about you?”

“I could eat,” Eddie hedges, “I didn’t actually plan this part out.”

Richie’s jaw drops, “You? Didn’t plan this?”

“Shut up, I didn’t know what would happen.”

“You plan for literally everything.”

“Yeah, well, you’re like the most spontaneous person I know, so-”

He doesn’t know what does it, exactly. Maybe it’s the 4 years of waiting. Maybe it’s the fact that Eddie is the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on, and he’s so god damn in love with him he can’t help it. Maybe it’s because Eddie knows him so well, and he loves him so much, that he forewent  _ planning  _ to go along with Richie’s spontaneity and chaos. Maybe it’s all of it. Whatever it is, the dam breaks.

He feels weightless as he rips his hand out of Eddie’s grasp, smoothing down the confused and hurt look on his face with his thumbs as he takes him within the palm of his hands, allowing himself a second to just take it all in, and it’s when he sees the realization spark in Eddie’s eyes that he leans in.

He’s sure that Eddie leans in with him, because they bump into one another rather aggressively. It doesn’t stop them in the slightest, though; no, instead Richie rolls along with it, angling down as Eddie tilts his chin up. Their lips part for only a millisecond before meeting once more, softer this time. Richie usually likes it fast and messy, but with Eddie he can’t help but savor the connection and the spark it lights in his chest.

He can feel the creature that had taken residence there burn away slowly. It’s not enough to get rid of it entirely, but Richie would suffocate in Eddie’s kisses if it meant being able to feel this way. He would burn from the inside out, spontaneously combust to prove Eddie right in saying he’s the most spontaneous person he knows, if only he got to keep doing this for just one more day, one more hour, minute, second. 

He’d give anything for forever with Eddie and their family.

They eventually have to part, though, and he smiles dopily at Eddie’s little whine that he knows he’s absolutely going to deny making. He’s never gonna let him live it down, though. It’s a memory he’ll treasure until it wears out, thin and torn and faded with time.

“How do you feel about Olive Garden?” Richie whispers, thumb tracing the nape of Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s hands are down by his waist, touching the skin under his shirt gently. He hums and then his head snaps up to glare at Richie.

“I fucking hate you, why are you like this.”

“That’s not what you said 5 minutes ago. Or 4 years ago, for that matter.”

Eddie purses his lips in a thin line, “Maybe. But we’re not going to fucking Olive Garden, you heathen.”

“Oh thank God,” Richie says, “I still want Italian, though.”

“Yeah? What are you gonna get?” Eddie asks, leaning back. He tugs Richie’s hand along with him as he walks to his car.

Richie leans down to whisper in his ear, “All I want tonight is Spaghetti.”

Eddie tenses and whirls around, “If you call me that when we have sex I  _ will  _ kick you out of the bed.”

“But we’re going to my place!”

“Our place now, Tozier,” Eddie smirks, knowing what he’s done. He walks away and climbs into the car, leaving Richie gaping where he left him.

“Our-” he comes back online, rushing into the passenger seat, “Eddie, wait, did you say  _ our _ ?!”

* * *

_ It was David’s first testimony. The morning had started out well; David got up on time, he got dressed in his suit with very little fuss. Richie had even walked into the courthouse relieved, thinking they only had to rehash what had been rehashed countless times in therapy with Eddie. _

_ He couldn’t have been more wrong. _

_ David was antsy when the prosecutor asked their questions: the woman was very friendly, wasn’t too imposing. Everything was going well. Even Eddie, who was there for observational purposes along with Richie, was surprised by how well David was taking everything. _

_ And then the defense stepped up. _

_ Richie hated the guy on principle; he was defending the slimy piece of shit who abused hundreds of kids, including his own. He wasn’t kind in court, and he didn’t hesitate to resort to victim blaming and questioning parenting, constantly defecting the attention off of his client. Richie had been thinking the guy would ease up in the presence of a 4-year-old, but no such luck. _

_ Richie grew more and more agitated as the questioning went on, David becoming visibly upset with each thinly veiled accusation and deflection. _

_ Eddie called for breaks several times, shooting glares at the defense attorney and narrowly avoiding expressing his distaste for the man. It was during one of these breaks that Eddie made eye contact with Richie and stood. _

_ “Mr. Tozier, may I speak with you outside for a moment?” _

_ Richie raised his brows, “What about David?” _

_ Eddie looked back pointedly at the prosecutor playing with him, cheering him up. “It will only be a moment.” _

_ Richie scoffed, “If you insist, Mr. Kaspbrak.” _

_ He turned and left the room, not looking back to see if Eddie was following. He knew he was. He stopped by a bench and whipped around to face him. “Mr. Tozier? Really?” _

_ Eddie cringed, “Sorry. I didn’t need that slimy defense attorney finding another excuse for his client.” _

_ Richie scoffed. “We’ve been on a first name basis since we met. He’s heard us talking to each other.” _

_ Eddie nodded, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” _

_ “So what did you want to talk about?” _

_ Eddie bit his lip, hesitating. “You were upset in there. I wanted to check on you.” _

_ “Of course I’m upset, what else am I supposed to be?” _

_ “I know, I know, and it’s your first time being in the room when he-” Eddie cleared his throat, “It doesn’t matter. I think-” _

_ Eddie hesitated, the gap of silence setting Richie further on edge. “What? Just tell me.” _

_ “I don’t think you should be in there,” Eddie blurted, then clenched his jaw, “I mean, if you can’t control yourself. David sees you getting upset and it’s affecting him.” _

_ Richie gaped. “Are you fucking serious right now?” _

_ “I know it’s hard for you, but you have to consider David.” _

_ “What, so leaving my son in a room full of strangers will be better? Fuck off, Eddie.” _

_ Eddie’s jaw twitched in frustration. “Richie, we’ve talked about this before, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. When children are in distressing situations they’re more likely to become more upset or stressed when they can see their parents’ faces. David can see you getting upset in there and it’s making him more agitated.” _

_ Richie considered what Eddie was saying. He was right, of course; he was an expert in child psychology, what else did he expect? But there was no way in hell he was going to abandon his child right now. David needed him in there, and perhaps selfishly, he needed to see David with his own eyes.  _

_ “No.” Richie said, “I’m not doing it. I’m sorry, Eddie, but I’m just not going to side with you on this one.” _

_ Eddie sighed, “Richie, please-” _

_ “No! You’re not his father and you’re not my husband. You can give me professional advice, but you can not tell me what to do as if you’re actually-” _

_ Eddie looked as if he’d been slapped. His eyes were wide with shock and anger, and he’d taken a step back. His mouth was open and his jaw was tense. He snapped it shut, “As if I’m actually what, Richie? Part of your family? Involved in your life?” _

_ “It doesn’t matter.” _

_ “Do not give me that bullshit,” Eddie snapped, “We may not be together, but you know how I feel about you. You know how my daughter feels about you, what she calls you. I know that you’re upset, and frustrated, and a little desperate, but you do not get to talk to me that way.” _

_ “Oh, and you do?” Richie snarled, poking him in the chest. “You think you can tell me what kind of parenting decisions I should be making, you can tell me that we can’t be together for the sake of my child, that we can’t live together in case someone finds out and the case is jeopardized- but I’m not allowed to draw boundaries?” _

_ “Of course you’re allowed to draw boundaries, Rich.” Eddie insisted, “But when it comes to David’s mental health, I sure as hell know a lot better than you.” _

_ “Oh, you do?” Richie asked mockingly, “So you were there for the first 4 years of his life? You were there when he was abused?” _

_ “Obviously not, otherwise it wouldn’t have happened in the first place!”Eddie shouted, huffing angrily while trying to keep his voice at a reasonable level, before he realized what he’d said. “Wait, I didn’t mean-” _

_ Richie didn’t wait for the end of the sentence. He turned and walked back into the room, taking the time to school his features in a reasonable manner. He took Eddie’s seat next to David, which David looked absolutely ecstatic over.  _

_ “Daddy!” _

_ “Hey, bud,” he said, returning the hug his son had practically climbed into his lap to give him. _

_ He refused to make eye contact with Eddie as he walked back in, taking the spot Richie had been in previously. _

* * *

Richie looks over at Eddie’s naked form padding from the bed to the bathroom. He doesn’t know why that particular memory has come up now, after such an incredible first date, but… 

Now that he thinks about it, they’d never talked about it. David had been fine once Richie was sitting next to him, rather than in his eyesight, so they had wordlessly switched positions for every other testimony following. Neither of them brought it up or apologized; they’d just moved on with their lives.

He doesn’t want it to be hanging over them, now that they’re together. He waits for Eddie to come back, wet washcloth in his hand as he cleans both of them up.

“Hey, Eds,” he says softly. Eddie hums, inquiring. “Do you remember that fight we had at the courthouse?”

Eddie freezes in his ministrations and stands. “Yeah,” he whispers.

Richie’s heart practically freezes in his chest as he watches Eddie walk back into the bathroom, only to relax as he comes back and climbs into the bed next to him. They turn so that they’re facing each other, though they’re not making eye contact.

“I’ve never regretted saying something like that before,” Eddie says after a while, “I didn’t even mean it maliciously, just that if I’d been physically there when David was-” he clears his throat, “That I obviously would have put a stop to it if I had physically been there at the time. The second I realized what it sounded like I tried to take it back but-”

“I’m a stubborn asshole that walks away when shit gets too hard?” Richie says, and Eddie smacks his chest lightly.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

Richie swallows, “But it’s what happened.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but-”

“No. You’re still here, that’s all that matters. You may have walked away from that fight, but you didn’t walk away from me. You may have needed a break from the hard shit, but you didn’t abandon it.”

Richie doesn’t say anything. He finds the courage in him, though he’s not sure from where, to look up and meet Eddie’s gaze. He smiles and reaches out to brush some hair out of Eddie’s eyes. Eddie blushes lightly, leaning in for a kiss.

It’s long, but chaste. Lingering, tender. A promise. An apology.

“I love you.” he says when Eddie pulls back, “And I’m sorry I’m such an asshole.”

“I love you, too. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

In the past, he may have said something like  _ it’s okay  _ or  _ no big deal.  _ But it wasn’t okay, and it was a big deal. What Eddie said had hurt him in one of his most vulnerable moments, and what he’d said to Eddie could have ended their relationship. Apologies weren’t meant for dismissing the wrongdoing; they were meant as an admittance, as healing.

“I forgive you.” He says instead. 

“I forgive you, too.”

They sleep peacefully that night, not for the assurance there would no longer be pain, but for the opposite. Love is merely a series of aches and bruises, whether they be self-inflicted or delivered from the other party, of which you continuously apologize and forgive for. Love makes the heart tender, and in the wrong hands, damages it irreparably. Richie is positive that his love for Eddie is right; he doesn’t feel damaged or broken by the hurt. He feels cared for, healed.

He feels strong. He feels brave. He  _ feels. _

* * *

They don’t have as difficult a time explaining everything to the kids as they thought.

“I don’t get it,” David says, “I thought we were already a family?”

Richie looks to Eddie for help, but he just shrugs. He glares and looks back at David, “Well, yeah, of course,” he says, “But during the trial, Eddie and I couldn’t actually be in love. It could have made it so Mr. Gray didn’t get thrown in jail, so we waited until everything was over.”

It’s hard having these kinds of conversations with David and Marissa. Richie doesn’t even want to talk about Gray or the trial; he wants it all to be in the past, but for David, it wasn’t something he could just forget. So they talk about it.

David nods like he understands, and deep down Richie thinks that he does. “So are you getting married?”

Richie laughs, “No, buddy.” He pauses to look at Eddie, who only smiles. “At least not yet.”

“Does this mean we can live with daddy and David now?” Marissa asks excitedly, looking at Eddie.

“Yeah, it does,” he agrees, “You’re gonna be staying with Amanda and Theo next weekend with your brother while we move all our stuff.”

“Why can’t I help?” she pouts.

“Princesses don’t help with moving!” Richie cries, tossing her up in the air and catching her as she giggles hysterically, “They play and have fun while everyone else does the work!” He pulls her into his lap and starts tickling her, the start of Marissa’s favorite game: the princess gets kidnapped by the tickle monster and she defeats him valiantly. It’s secretly Richie’s favorite game, too.

He pretends not to be eavesdropping when David looks shyly at Eddie, “Does that mean I can call you papa?”

He turns and starts stomping around the living room with Marissa under his arm, flailing about, giving the two some privacy. He can still see as Eddie wipes away a tear and brings David into his arms, holding him tightly. He can’t hear what’s being said over Marissa’s shrieking, but he knows well enough.

* * *

Standing in his living room, surrounded by his friends and kids and nieces and nephews and the love of his life, he finds it hard to remember how it was before.

Who was he without Eddie and Marissa in his life? Without Beverly and Ben and Nicholas? Without Mike? How did he survive, not knowing them? Without loving them?

Because, sure, he had David. He had Stan and Patty and their fucking  _ flock  _ of children, and he had Audra and Bill. But David didn’t have his baby sister or his Papa. Jacob and Aron and Rachel and Sara had each other, but they didn’t have their cousins, their best friends. Audra and Bill didn’t have Mike. Their circle was incomplete, and they hadn’t even been aware. They just kept on going as if nothing was wrong, because as far as they knew, there wasn’t.

He started seeing a therapist after Eddie had poked and prodded at him for years. He’d relented when David had turned 13 and he had an honest to god panic attack over the fact that his son was officially a teenager. Not his finest moment.

So, he started seeing a therapist, and Salim was always pushing him to find positivity in life. “There will always be negativity,” he said, “If you do nothing but focus on that, you will miss the beauty surrounding you.”

So, as painful as it was for everyone- especially so for David- he can’t deny the beauty that has come from the pain and the trauma. He feels guilty thinking it, but he knows not to: David has already chastised him for it.

It was weird, being chastised by a 14 year old. Whatever.

He takes a sip of champagne and smiles when he sees the glint of silver on his left ring finger, absolutely giddy at the reminder that he is married to Edward Francis Kaspbrak, no take backs! It took them too long to get here, if he’s being honest, but well…

He can’t help but feel that it was right, waiting another 5 years to get married. Like a reflection of his and Eddie’s relationship during the trial. Like proof that no matter how long they had to wait, they would find each other and they would still be in love.

He’s distracted from his thoughts as Eddie sidles up next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder. Richie leans back to give him a kiss even though the angle is awkward; it’s worth it to see the smile on Eddie’s face.

“What brings you here to this dark corner all on your lonesome?” Eddie asks playfully. If his smile could get any bigger, it just did.

“Oh, Edward,” he plays along, putting on his best Southern Belle, “How awfully forward of you!” He bats his eyelashes for effect, breaking Eddie down into giggles. He bites his lip, overwhelmed with happiness.

“But really,” Eddie insists once he’s calmed down, “What are you doing over here? The party is out there.”

“Just thinking,” Richie admits quietly.

“Hmm, dangerous,” Eddie says, “Should I call an ambulance?”

“Fuck you.” He doesn’t mean it. Except he does, but in a  _ oh, I am so in love with you  _ kind of way, not a  _ fuck you  _ kind of way, you feel? “I’m just happy.”

Eddie softens, twisting them around so his forehead is leaning against his, “Me too.”

They stand there for a moment, just taking it all in. Eddie, pressed close against him, intimate but not necessarily sexual. Their foreheads touching, leaning into the others’ breaths. The sound of their friends and their children, running around and talking and playing and having fun. Life, and living, and the art of love and happiness.

They break away to watch as Mike does his usual thing of lecturing the kids on systemic racism and LGBT activism and other general nerd stuff that he somehow makes cool and interesting to a group of 11 to 19 year olds. David is leaning against Nicholas, as he always does, listening raptly. Jacob and Aron- the spitting image of Stanley, Jesus fuck- sit on either side of them, leaning out like two sides of a triangle. Marissa is sitting in David’s lap, always entranced by her big brother, while Rachel and Sara lay on their bellies with their legs kicked up in the air. Mike sits cross-legged in front of them, waving his hands around excitedly.

“Marsha P. Johnson was an absolute legend, oh my god, you have no idea,” they can hear him say, “I still can’t believe they don’t teach this in school- well, actually I can, but that’s another topic for another day- but man, she was so cool! People like your parents and I, who were part of the LGBT community, didn’t get to walk around freely like we do today, but she and a bunch of other trans women of color made it possible. It’s so sad though, they were alienated even by some gay people, it’s crazy-”

Richie leans in to whisper in Eddie’s ear even though they’re pressed up so close against each other he can feel his breath, “Did I tell you how Bill keeps trying to put social justice stuff into the next season?”

Eddie snorts, “You’re kidding?”

“Nope,” Richie chuckles, “He keeps veering off plot to do it, too. We keep having to remind him that we can’t just ignore the story for the sake of activism.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie laughs, “Does Mike know?”

“Yes! I texted him about it and you know what he said?”

“What?”

“‘Good,’” he quotes, “‘Viva la revolution.’”

“Sounds about right,” he laughs.

“It would be great if Bill said he wanted to include some diversity or new subplots surrounding some of the stuff he wants in there, but he’s trying to replace the entire story! After all the time it took us to get here! He’s driving me crazy, Eds.”

“I can’t believe I came over here for us to gossip about Bill.”

Richie laughs and drops the subject, even though Eddie was mostly joking. They do some more people-watching, delightedly taking note as Bill and Audra convince Stan, Patty, Ben, and Bev to join the kids on the floor to listen to Mike. It’s bizarre, seeing six grown adults listen while their friend lectures them on queer history. It’s also a little perfect.

“Did David tell you about his new girlfriend,” Eddie asks, causing Richie to startle.

“I’m sorry, his what?”

Eddie smirks, “Calm down, babe, he’s in high school now. This was probably gonna happen eventually.”

“Obviously,” Richie scoffs, trying to hide the fact that he’s upset about his son dating someone. He’s so young! Eddie rubs his hand over his back soothingly, so he can tell he’s not doing a good job. “Why did he tell you but not me?”

Eddie sighs, “Rich, you know he’ll tell you eventually. He’s just struggling with it.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“Not in so many words,” Eddie says, which Richie knows actually means  _ no, but I’m a therapist with 3 PhDs, it wasn’t hard to figure out once he started talking.  _ If Richie’s parents had been therapists, he never would have told them anything for fear of them figuring out everything he’s thinking. David seems to prefer it, though.

“He says that she recently came out as trans at school,” he says, brow furrowed, “He’s liked her for a while, even before she came out. He doesn’t know what to think about it.”

“I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

Richie can’t tear his eyes away from David, now. How he seems so close to Nicholas, how interested he is in Mike’s lecture and- yeah, okay, he’s always liked Nick best, and he’s always liked listening to Mike, but this is different. It’s more intentional.

He sees how the only time he looks away is to look at his phone, tapping away and smiling before pocketing it again, attention returned almost immediately. He sees how he’s blushing, just a little bit, and his smile doesn’t go away. He looks happy. He looks like he’s in love, maybe.

It’s hard to think about, especially knowing everything he’s been through, and how young he is. But Richie was 12 when he had his first girlfriend; surely 15 is fine? Right?

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Richie asks, “Even if he gets his heart broken?”

Eddie presses a kiss to his temple and leans back, “Yeah, but even if he’s not, we’ll be there for him.”

Richie nods. It’s something he’s learned to accept, knowing that he can never really protect David or Marissa. Or any of them, for that matter. But he knows that he can try, and if things go wrong, he can be there for them and love them. 

He thinks back to the night David first started having nightmares, when he was diagnosed with PTSD, when he learned what had happened, when the trials were happening. He thinks back to meeting and falling in love with Eddie, with his daughter, to that first night together. He remembers thinking that love was pain, but in the right hands, you would find healing and comfort. Looking at his friends, their children,  _ his  _ children, he finds that.

Looking back at Eddie, the depths of his eyes, seeing his love- he finds that. He takes Eddie into his arms, closer, tighter, and he kisses him and he thinks  _ I found it, and I’m never letting go. _

And he doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't believe this is over. I love this fic so much and am so, so glad it was my introduction as a writer to this fandom. I hope y'all enjoyed it; I may have extra parts for this later, who knows?  
> I also just wanted to say that every single thing in this fic comes from my own life experience, except for the trial. The parenting tips and struggles were from my own parents' stories of raising me and my older brother, the side characters, even the abuse David suffers is something my friends have confided in me. This world is terrible and cruel, and I'm glad I was able to explore that- as well as its juxtaposition to love and care- with these characters.   
> Thanks for everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr! My main is certifiedbisexualdisaster and my It sideblog is richiethebisexualloser


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